doo-wop.

1940's swing, I lift my cup. Challenges, like stretched
rubber balloons, thick with security and do not pop.
Precipitating, impressions fair to say

this all happened before yet unlikely
it did not.

Directionless passenger, following through,
I run, you walk. It is cold outside.

Bask and gleam, this new discovery. This is what playing is about.
Timeless, energetic, more than half full --

No unforgivable childhood, always had what I wanted, never
wanted anything, speak for myself, deep-rooted
and uprooted, I can manage.

The catch is, I am timid beyond reason,
my writing suffers in my ability to be happy.

What about you?